Blinded
by aNervousFlower
Summary: Derek was sure he was doing the right thing when he left to lead the chicago BAU unit.  Two years later, the two teams meet with a baffling case that seems to beat all of the odds.  Slash S/D
1. Prologue: Goodbye my lover

**A/N**

Hello again. I've decided to try for a multi-chapter this time. I hope this is good, let me know if I should continue. Also, keep in mind that I have midterms and a bad track record for finishing projects . . . but I will do my very best **if** you want to read more. Will eventually be rated M for later chapters, this will be S/D slash, and full of angsty goodness.

I, in no way, own anything of Criminal Minds, or the Musical Masterpiece that is James Blunt's Goodbye My Lover.

Prologue

Derek Morgan stood at the gate where his flight was boarding. He craned his neck to search the rippling sea of people, unable to find his target. In his mind, he battled between relief and pain. It was for the best. If _he_ had come to see him off, it may have weakened his resolve. As it was, he was so close to breaking. Never mind that it was a done deal; the paperwork had gone through, his request had been allowed. He was still on the verge of selfishly bolting and trying to unravel everything he had woven together.

And yet, it still hurt that he hadn't come.

_Did I disappoint you or let you down?_  
><em>Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?<em>  
><em>'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,<em>  
><em>Yes I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.<em>

He turned and scanned the the sad but supportive faces of his makeshift family. All but the one who wasn't there. Leaving them with a small smile, he pivoted and boarded the plane before he could change his wavering mind.

He had done the right thing. He was still horrified by the signs he had seen in himself, and his weakening grip on his control. And the worst part was, he knew he could get what he wanted. If he pursued his desires, Derek knew the _he _would fold. After all, he had spent years perfecting his methods and he could be very persuasive. There was no way he could subject his best friend to such brutality. The feelings that had been growing in him would never be realized, and he could only hope that one day he would be free of the guilt of them.

_So I took what's mine by eternal right._  
><em>Took your soul out into the night.<em>  
><em>It may be over but it won't stop there,<em>  
><em>I am here for you if you'd only care.<em>  
><em>You touched my heart you touched my soul.<em>  
><em>You changed my life and all my goals.<em>  
><em>And love is blind and that I knew when,<em>  
><em>My heart was blinded by you.<em>

It was unreal how absorbed he was with thoughts of _him_. He never would have thought such obsession was possible for himself. Most of the time they consisted of sweet words and peaceful time spent together, of smiles and laughter. But sometimes, when he let down his guard, the affectionate glances became heated, playful wrestling became foreplay, and lust overtook him.

_I've kissed your lips and held your hand._  
><em>Shared your dreams and shared your bed.<em>  
><em>I know you well, I know your smell.<em>  
><em>I've been addicted to you.<em>

He comforted himself with the knowledge that he had never acted on these unwelcome, but surprisingly strong, desires. They had never made an appearance outside of the confines of his mind. This was why he was leaving. He could feel his control weaken daily.

_Goodbye my lover._  
><em>Goodbye my friend.<em>  
><em>You have been the one.<em>  
><em>You have been the one for me.<em>

Five years ago, he would of made this move to his home city with no reservations, thrilled with the chance to work where he could carry on an active relationship with his family. But these people he had worked with, they had changed him more than he had realized. Especially _him_. Now, the move was more painful that he had ever expected.

_I am a dreamer and when I wake,_  
><em>You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you as you move on, remember me,<em>  
><em>Remember us and all we used to be<em>  
><em>I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile.<em>  
><em>I've watched you sleeping for a while.<em>  
><em>I'd be the father of your child.<em>  
><em>I'd spend a lifetime with you.<em>  
><em>I know your fears and you know mine.<em>  
><em>We've had our doubts but now we're fine,<em>  
><em>And I love you, I swear that's true.<em>  
><em>I cannot live without you.<em>

Derek knew that _he_ would be hurt. He wished there was some other way he could have resolved this, but he could not come up with another option that would protect his friend so completely. He was sure that with the help of the team, _his_ reopened wounds of abandonment and betrayal would be sealed once again.

_Goodbye my lover._  
><em>Goodbye my friend.<em>  
><em>You have been the one.<em>  
><em>You have been the one for me.<em>

No matter his resolve though, his mind could not let go of _him_. His heart was blinded to anything else, and denying himself the desire of his heart was excruciating. His commitment issues had no place where _he_ was concerned. There was no other future that he could see himself living, and he had to sabotage it. But his mind, his heart, his dreams, would not let their share of _him_ go.

_And I still hold your hand in mine._  
><em>In mine when I'm asleep.<em>  
><em>And I will bare my soul in time,<em>  
><em>When I'm kneeling at your feet.<em>  
><em>Goodbye my lover.<em>  
><em>Goodbye my friend.<em>  
><em>You have been the one.<em>  
><em>You have been the one for me.<em>

The plane took off, removing him from his old life, and he struggled to hold in his tears of frustration as he held his head against the window.

_I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow._  
><em>I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.<em>  
><em>I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.<em>  
><em>I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.<em>

He suddenly felt hollow.

* * *

><p>Well? Reviews get a cookie XD<p> 


	2. Chapter 1

Good Evening, fellow shippers.

Hell must have frozen over, because chapter 1 is complete! Not long, I grant you, but I figure I should crawl before I leap. I hope you like it, it's starting to set the stage for the plot. While there is a case, and it is prominent at the beginning, I wouldn't call it a case fic. This is certainly going to be all about M/R

Thank you to everyone who read the prologue and left me love notes ^_^ I hope you continue to read and enjoy "Blinded."

I do not own Criminal Minds. If I did, I'm sure you know what would happen

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Derek leaned forward, elbows on his temporary desk and fingers kneading his forehead. This was one hell of a weird case. They had been having a quiet couple of weeks, so they accepted the invitation from the Minneapolis police to look into a string of increasingly brutal animal mutilations. Yeah, animals.

He had figured it would be a pretty quick fix. They had assumed it was the work of a budding serial killer, just as the local LEOs feared. By the time they had a arrived, a total of seven family pets had been killed in just over three weeks; four dogs, two cats, and a ferret. Their acceptance of the case stemmed from a concern about the frequency of the incidents, as well as the presence of human blood on the last canine victim. Considering the strange nature of the case, Derek supposed that it was to be expected that he and the team hadn't afforded it the urgency and singleminded focus that they usually employed on the job. He now wished they had had a different approach at the time. Now, only one week later, they had two human victims, and another suspected target missing.

He heaved a sigh, before standing and stretching to crack his back. He had sent his team to the hotel a half-hour ago, and the precinct was quiet. They had begun finding pairs of owner and dog, both brutally killed and mutilated. They were now in the process of completely reworking their profile, now understanding that the original killings were less the emerging of a potential killer, but the beginning of a distinct MO and signature.

Hoping that things would seem clearer after a night's rest, Derek swung on his jacket and was almost out the door when the distinctive, jarring ring of the phone stopped him in his tracks. With a regretful look at the exit, he retraced his steps and leaned a palm on the desk as he answered the phone with his usual greeting.

"Morgan," he announced gruffly.

"Morgan. I'm glad I caught you," a stern, familiar voice filtered through the phone line.

"Hotch?" Derek asked in pleased surprise, all thought of sleep forgotten. He sat on the desk and asked his former coworker the usual pleasantries.

"Jack is doing great, thank you for asking. How is chicago treating you?"

"Kind of reminiscent, walking my old stomping grounds again," he said with a smile. "I've been doing alright here. I've got a team of four other great agents, and we've been pretty successful."

"I'm glad to hear that. I have been asking about you from time to time, and all reports I received were very positive."

"Excellent." An empty silence arose. After a beat, Morgan broke it. "As welcome as this is Hotch, even if you were one for small-talk and calling just to catch up, I doubt it would be at this hour of night. What can I do for you?" He thought he could almost hear a hint of relief in the agent's voice, as he spoke again.

"I heard you have a rather interesting case on your hands, and I suspect it may be in some way related to the one we are working right now." Derek sobered instantly. "Let me fill you in on what we have," Hotch began.

"We were called to New Jersey about a week ago, when the body of a 39 year old woman was found with the body of her pet dog of 5 years. They were both mutilated beyond recognition. The dog appears to have died first, but not before being largely skinned alive. The victim was then brutally beaten with a sledgehammer until unrecognizable."

There was a pregnant pause.

Dumbstruck, Morgan managed to tell his former supervisor that sounded almost exactly like his unsub, except for a few small details in the method. "Our guy likes knives. He stabs, carves, amputates, instead of beating and skinning. Other than that, they're identical."

"I was afraid of that." His voice was grim.

"Wait, how did you even find out about this?"

"Garcia just got the results from a DNA sample we had sent in that we had suspected belonged to the unsub." He waited a beat. "It matched an unidentified sample retrieved at your first crime scene."

"What?" Derek exclaimed. "How is that possible? He can't be in two places at once!"

"I don't know Morgan, but I do know that there is something we are missing, and we aren't catching this guy until we figure it out."

"I agree."

"Excellent. Reid and Agent Monroe are already on the jet on their way to Minneapolis to go over the case with you."

Morgan's heart shuddered to a halt. Mind frozen, he managed to maneuver through the end of the conversation on auto-pilot. After agreeing to talk to Hotch the next day, he set the phone back in its cradle with a shaking hand. There had been no contact between himself and Spe-, _Reid_, since before he had left. Just the thought of seeing him again, and so unexpectedly, had Derek's stomach in knots. Suddenly, his fear could not control his raw need any longer.

Snatching his keys, he raced out the door and to his government issued SUV. He was going to meet them at the airport, and he was going to see Reid again. Excitement fought with anxiety in his mind as he drove, pushing the speed limit. While he had no choice but to allow his heart interaction with its desire, he had to keep a handle on himself. He hadn't sacrificed so much over the last two years to let it go all to waste.

* * *

><p>A mere 45 minutes later Derek stood leaning on his hood, waiting for the passengers to disembark the jet. He had never really experienced the jitters before, and it was a bizarre feeling. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, he fidgeted as he watched the stairs descend and the first occupant step out. Morgan was momentarily distracted by the surprise of recognizing Agent James Monroe. Jim was one of the first cadets he had trained for physical combat.<p>

And then his thoughts were abruptly halted for the second time that night. Reid had stepped out behind Jim, and Derek tried not to be completely dazzled. He had forgotten so much. The distinct line of his cheekbones on his angular face, the spark of vibrant life in his eyes that he could see over the distance. His lush lips, checks and the tip of his nose were all flushed from the chill of the night air, and Derek knew he was absolutely staring. He would need to regain control before they got much closer, but couldn't stop himself from finishing his survey.

He was as thin as ever, wrapped up in a long woolen coat, with his trademark purple scarf wrapped over his chin. He had let his hair grow somewhat, and hung around his ears in a wavy curtain. Morgan chuckled, remembering that this was the famous "boy band" hairstyle.

As fast as the man had appeared before his eyes, Derek felt the raw want he had denied for so long roar to life with a vengeance. He swallowed audibly. If he had thought that his need would lessen in the years apart, he was dead wrong.

* * *

><p>So? What do you think? Please leave me goodies XD<p> 


	3. Chapter 2

Hello again, my lovelies. After writing two midterms on Thursday, I am back with your next ch. of Blinded. I apologize if it is riddled with mistakes, I typed some of it at work on a comp that doesnt have spell check. I decided I would rather get it to you right away and fix it later than leave you hanging any longer.  
>Thank you so much to everyone who left me goodies. I love you all. And all you lurkers, while I love you as well, I hope you will see fit to drop be a few words on your way out. I hope you like Chapter 2.<br>~Daisy

I do not own Criminal Minds. At all. :'(

* * *

><p>"Agent Morgan, it's good to see you again. I trust you've been well," his voice pleasantly inquired.<p>

Morgan had stared at Monroe for a few confused moments, wondering why his voice sounded just like Reid's, before he realized that the professional greeting had actually come from his old teammate. Turning to look at him, Morgan felt his heart sink at the polite, but closed, smile on his face.

The atmosphere in the vehicle alternated between polite, common conversation, and slightly awkward silences. He glanced to his right, to see the object of his affection gazing out the passenger window. He had been surprised when, approaching the vehicle, Monroe immediately took the back seat, and Reid approached the front as if it was his right.

Reid suddenly turned his head, and Morgan looked away too late. "Agent Morgan, do you have any of the case's paperwork here with you?"

"Uh, yeah. In the pocket on the back of my seat," he replied, aching at the formal tone of the conversation.

Reid nodded, and reached behind the seat, sending a wave of his scent wafting over Morgan. He gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white, and then Reid was back in his seat, flipping through the folders at a manic pace. He had brutally shut down any attempt at personal conversation, and Morgan's mood dropped with every rebuttal.

Monroe leaned forward and caught the driver's eye. "Agent Morgan, do you want to go for a short drink with me tonight? I'd love to catch up with you."

"Yeah, sure," he immediately replied, and couldn't stop his quick glance at his other passenger.

"Agent Monroe, so long as you do not become inebriated and it does not effect your work tomorrow, you may do as you like," Spencer stated, eyes not leaving the pages in front of him. "I would like to be dropped off at the hotel."

Disappointed, Morgan barely caught himself before offering to let him stay at his place. That would not be at all appropriate. Other than the innate disappointment, Morgan was finding himself thrown off each time Spencer opened his mouth. The way he spoke was so different, and the kind of authority he seemed to hold over Monroe was so contrary to the Reid he knew, that he almost had trouble reconciling the two. The fact that he had, in essence, given Monroe permission to go have a drink baffled him. How much had he changed over the years?

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Morgan and Monroe were sitting at the bar counter, each on their second bottle. They had had a great time reminiscing and catching up with each other. Morgan was surprised to hear that the other man had been engaged for two months, and the other was not surprised that Morgan was still playing the field. They joked and told stories, enjoying the reunion.<p>

Now, while both men held their liquor well, two beers was enough to start loosening the tongue. Inhibitions floating farther and farther from the surface of his mind, Derek reasoned to himself that it was perfectly normal for one to ask about a past coworker and teammate. There was nothing strange about. Surely nothing bad could come of it.

"So Jimmy, how do you find working with the brilliant and eccentric Dr. Reid?" he asked, turning to the man with a goofy grin on his face. James kept his eyes trained to the front as he bit out his answer.

"He's an ass."

His jovial mood screeched to a halt. He could feel his lip curl and his hackles rise. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so shocked or enraged. This was the last word he could ever imagine being attributed to the sweet and innocent doctor that was adored and somewhat pampered by the team. He had to struggle not to reach out and hit the other agent without warning. Before he had a chance to verbally attack the man, he resumed speaking.

"He's just so cold, and unfeeling, and thinks of nothing but the facts. Not the feelings nor the pain of the victims and their families. He is brilliant, yes. But he rejects every attempt to get to know him at all, to build a bond like teammates should have. It's like everything he says is to prove he is smarter, and therefore better than everyone around him. He even insists on titles on the job. He is only to be called Dr. Reid, and he will tear a strip out of anyone that calls him anything else. Even Hotch and the others allow him this, which shocks me. It's just so stupid. True, he hasn't crossed any actual lines, with any of us or the locals we visit, but it doesn't mean he isn't being a complete and total jack-" Here he turned to his companion and trailed off, eyes widening, at the look on Derek's face.

"You listen to me, and listen well. I will never tolerate that kind of talk about Reid. If you ever abuse him so abominably behind his back again, there will be dire consequences. You have no idea what he has been through." He seemed to collect himself. "Now we are going to leave here, and I am going to drop you off before I do something I regret."

The whole bar seemed to have gone quiet as Morgan stood and tried to control his pace out of the bar, Agent Monroe following him meekly.

* * *

><p>The next morning when Derek called to tell Reid that he was on his way to pick them up, he was told rather bluntly that they had called to have a bureau SUV dropped off for their use while they were in the city. He tried not to feel too discouraged as he made his way into the police precinct to meet with his team. Agents Cory Barnes and Meaghan Smith were standing at the evidence board, deep in discussion, and Agent Robert McGillin sat at the table on his cell phone, a grim look on his face. They were small, as far as teams went, but efficient and had good working relationships. While very successful though, they would never be the Quantico team, which was known as the best of the best, even among other teams of elite profilers. Morgan ofter felt almost like he was being held in awe, having worked along side some of the most infamous names in the FBI.<p>

"Hey guys," he called as he entered the room. Barnes and Smith immediately turned and approached him, while McGillin turned his head slightly away after a glance with Morgan, ending his phone call. As soon as they were all assembled, he began. "I got a call last night from Agent Hotchner of the Quantico team." He could feel their anticipation grow. "We've really got something strange on our hands this time guys. They have been following a killer in Jersey for a little while now, and our two cases appear to be related." He gave them the details of the case and watched them absorb the details. He ended withe the most confusing and seemingly impossible.

"And to wrap it all up, their Unsub's DNA is a match for a sample that we found at our first crime scene."

They reacted almost exactly as he had and he raised a hand to queit them. I know this is a lot to take in, and yes it does change everything. Before we get started on this though, Hotch sent over two of his men to help us out and provide insight into their side of the case." There was a sharp tapping on the open door, and Morgan spun to see Reid standing with Monroe beside, and one step behind him. Fighting the urge to glare at his past student, Derek chose to turn a warm gaze on his past teammate, who looked at him expectantly before glancing at his team. Remembering himself, he turned to make the introductions.

"Agents Reid and Monroe, these are Agents Cory Barnes, Robbie McGillin and Maeghan Smith. Team, this is-"

He was cut off by Spencer stepping forward. "This is Agent James Monroe, and I am SSA Dr. Spencer Reid," He said, by way of announcing himself. Derek turned to look at the Doctor with amusement. "That's a lot of letters on the front of your name there, kid."

Instantly the air went cold. Spencer stood stiff and straight, a polite smile pasted on his face. "Agent Morgan, if I could have a moment?" It sounded more like an order than a request, and Derek found himself following him into an empty office, where frigid brown eyes met his.

"I don't appreciate being demeaned and belittled to those I am to work with. Just because we once worked together does not give you the right to be overly familiar now. Please see that you refer to me as Dr. Reid in the future, or we will have a problem, Agent Morgan." As soon as he had finished snarling his lecture, he was gone, leaving a stunned Morgan standing alone.

* * *

><p>There's the next bit everyone. You know what to do! (And in case you don't I'll tell you. <em>REVIEW!<em>)  
>BTW, im considering starting to name the chapters, so if you have any ideas for the first two, let me know!<p> 


	4. Chapter 3

Hello everyone,

Thanks so much, once again, for the review. You really are so good to me XD  
>I was thrilled to receive some advice, which I have tried to keep in mind for this chapter. Please let me know how it is. And now, without further ado, the 3rd Chapter of Blinded.<br>-Daisy

I still don't own a darned thing

* * *

><p>Once the agents had supplied themselves with steaming mugs of coffee, they had gathered around the round table that had been supplied by the precinct at Morgan's request. There were a few moments of awkward silence while he kept glancing at Reid, who was sitting serenely across the table, and everyone else's gazes kept darting between them. Morgan suspected his team was a little more intimidated by the visitors than they would like to have been known, especially now that there seemed to be tension between the once-teammates. He finally decided it was time to break the silence, and hope they could function well enough to do their jobs.<p>

"So, it looks like our guy is killing in two different cities, a thousand miles apart, how does this effect our profile?"

"1042," came Reid's voice, momentarily startling him.

"What?"

"There are 1042 miles between Minneapolis and Atlantic City, New Jersey, where the other murders take place," he stated, gently shaking his third sugar packet before tearing it open, and emptying it into his mug. Even aware of the thin ice he was treading on, Morgan couldn't hold back a small chuckle.

"My mistake. 1042 miles apart. Reid, how long would it take to drive that?" he asked, withstanding the glare shot across the table. He was sure that there was no way Reid had changed this much in the last two years. But what it meant that he had given Monroe such an opinion of him- Whatever the case, he didn't like the change, it didn't suit the younger agent at all, and Morgan was determined to find some proof that the real Reid was still in there.

After clearing his throat with emphasis, Reid replied in a clipped tone, "Approximately 21 hours and 33 minutes."

"That sounds pretty specific to me," he said with a smirk. Ignoring the other agent's annoyance, he continued. "Now that is a long way to travel between murder sites, so he's got to have a real good reason."

"If he has resources, he could be flying," Barnes piped up from his position on Derek's left.

"That would save him time," Derek mused. "We'll get Garcia to check on that."

"He seems to be growing more vicious," Reid mused, flipping through the crime scene photos. "Definitely devolving if you consider the decrease in his cooling off time, and the growing rage in the attacks."

"How does he find his victims?" Monroe wondered.

"They were all taken from middle class neighborhoods, in the middle of the day," Reid said, his brow furrowing. "How was he not seen?"

"Considering he is abducting both a woman and her dog, it wouldn't be subtle." Morgan settled into the familiar feel of the conversation. It was just like the old days.

"He must have some kind of a ruse." He stopped to consider for a moment. "You know, when I went to the victims' homes they all seemed to have higher than average affection for their pet."

"We noticed the same thing. Their dog was pampered, a part of the family. I would even say doted on." He paused for a moment before looking up from his file at Reid. "Was there any other similarities between the pets that you found?"

"Actually, yes. Each of the dog were particularly small, often referred to a lapdog or toy breed."

"Same here. So the only thing that appears to change between the two, is the weapon. Any idea what the significance of that could be?"

"Not a clue. Although it is clear that he is a sadistic psychopath. Considering the degree of physical torture, and also the psychological torture of watching their beloved pet's pain."

Morgan let out a frustrated sigh. "This guy is a whole new level of sicko." He paused. "I bet he's young, no older than, say, 25. While he is organized, he has no control over his rage"

"I agree. It could be that he lost his own dog, perhaps at the hands of another, whether intentional or not. He's using these people to represent himself and to feel his suffering."

The rest of the agents just sat absorbing the back-and-forth between the old teammates, occasionally offering some input.

"Alright, I'll give Garcia a call, I'd like to talk to her again anyway. Reid," he ignored the small tick that appeared on the younger man's face, "if you could call Hotch and update him on the profile, that would be great. I got a call right before we began telling me that Melissa Lanely, our missing girl, was found with her Pomeranian dog. I want Monroe and Barnes to head to the crime-scene. Smith, Robbie, I want you to go interview the family. Keep me updated."

And with that, they were dismissed, and went their separate ways.

* * *

><p>Derek leaned against the wall in an unused room, wondering about the difference in his friend. Perhaps that wonderful, crazy woman would have more to tell him on the matter. He dialed the long-familiar number and waited for what he was sure would be an interesting greeting. And he wasn't disappointed.<p>

_"Well if it isn't my Magnificently Macho Mocha Man. I can assure you, your wish is my command,"_ she trailed off in a sultry voice. Morgan's deep chuckle rumbled over the line.

"Hello to you too, baby girl. How is my favorite lady?"

_"Oh, the sweet talk, its all too much, I'm growing faint."_

"Enough of your theatrics, you know I can't handle drama."

_"Désolé, mon chéri. While I am tormented by the knowledge that you are always so far from me, I have managed to remain as bubbly as ever."_

"I can hear that." He was sure his smile could be heard over the phone. "I'm afraid I've gotta talk business with you, babe."

_"Give it to me, honey."_

"It looks like our unsub keeps traveling between Atlantic City and here between murders. Now that is a really long drive, so we-"

_"Wanted me to find out if he's using other regular means of transportation? I'm pickin' up what your puttin' down."_

"Take into account the times of the murders and see if there are any names overlapping," he could hear the hectic clatter of keys in the background.

_"I am all over that, my vision. Anything else I can do for you?"_

He hesitated a moment. "Actually, I do have another question for you-" he paused, and then, "not related to the case."

"_Hmm, what bee is buzzing in your bonnet_?"

Chuckling at the imagery, he was able to relax. "I wanted to ask how Reid has been since I left. To tell the truth, I haven't really had any contact with him until now and, to be honest, he barely seems like himself." He heard a heavy exhale.

"_Because I can't lie to you, I will tell you that I am worried about him._" Morgan waited, allowing her to collect her thoughts. When she spoke again, her spunky tone had left her for restless, almost hopeless one. "_It wasn't so bad at first. He was just a little quieter than usual, and we all knew how attached he was to this family, so we thought he just needed time to adjust. But as time went on, he became more and more closed off,_" she continued, emotion starting to seep into her voice.

"_He doesn't tell us anything, he doesn't go out with anyone, as far as I know, the only thing he does other than work is study. He is still as great at his job as ever, but he has shut us all out. I've tried everything, but his defenses are solid, Derek. Would you believe he has become completely professional? Even more-so than Hotch. Once in a while, for a moment, I'll see him through his walls, but then he's hidden again so fast- Derek, I just don't know what to do._"

"Hey, hey, Penelope. Baby girl," he soothed. "Don't worry hun, we'll get him back. I guess I triggered all this, and I sure as hell am gonna make sure it gets right again."

"_Please be careful. We can't let him get farther away than he already is._"

"I doubt that's even possible," he muttered under his breath. "I'll get him back, you can count on that!"

* * *

><p>And there you have it! btw, in case you didn't know, the french is the approx. equivalent of "Sorry, my love"<p>

Leave me treats below, or I will turn Spencer's puppy dog eyes on you! O.O


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry this one took me a little longer to get out, but as an apology it is a good bit longer, with interaction between our favorites ^_^  
>Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and favoritedalert. I really appreciate the support  
>I hope my writing continues to improve, and that you will leave more feedback on how I'm doing<p>

Now a bit of a warning, this chapter starts out quite gruesome. Sorry about that. And before you ask, I _am_ a dog lover, and I'm so sorry for what I'm about to write =_=  
>Still, I own nothing but a twisted, racing mind. Please enjoy chapter 4 of Blinded!<p>

* * *

><p>The man sat on an overturned pail watching the writhing mess on the floor. It could barely cry, to weak to let out anything more than a pained, pathetic whimper. The elderly woman laying next to it was gently running a trembling hand over the animal's bloody cheek, sobbing. Trying to look into its eyes for comfort, she strained from where he had nailed her feet into the floor. At the beginning, he had watched them with fascination and satisfaction, absorbing the gruesome scene before him. Now his face betrayed the boredom that had come over him as he spun the razor blade between his nimble fingers. The animal wouldn't last much longer, and then he could finish up here. It was a good thing, because he had a meeting in an hour and a half. He'd have to get cleaned up and find a fresh pair of clothes. He sighed at the inconvenience.<p>

He tried pushing the curling strands of auburn hair off his forehead with his shoulder. Though more effective, it was such a pain to wash blood out of hair that he didn't want to use his hands. Impatient, he glanced at his watch. This was just taking too long.

He stood and approached the sad pair. When the woman noticed him, she began sobbing and pleading for her life. What she actually said, he didn't particularly care. He quickened his pace, and when he reached them, let his right leg fly back. Shrieking and begging, the woman shrank into herself and let out a agonized scream and his foot connected with the animals head, sending the bloody mess pinwheeling across the floor.

The woman wailed and he was pleased to notice the faint whimpering had stopped. Now he could move on. Turning to his second victim, his eyes seemed to take on an eerie glow as he fiddled with his blade and crouched over her terrified body

* * *

><p>Derek walked out of the office with a new sense of purpose. Maybe he didn't have a solid lead yet, but Penny would find something. She always did. And Spencer's behavior was making more and more sense. The only question was how to fix it.<p>

As he walked into their makeshift headquarters, he was pleasantly surprised when Reid motioned him over to where he was speaking on the phone.

"He actually just walked in," he said into the line before looking up. Reid's eyes still held a coldness when they met his, but at least there was no hostility. He decided he would take that as a good sign.

"It seems Agent Hotchner would like to speak to you. I'm going to take a look at what you have for a geographical profile," he said, delicately handing Morgan the phone, seeming to take great care that their fingers didn't touch.

"Thanks Reid," he took the phone, and was pleased to notice, as he held it to his ear, that the younger agent simply gave a small roll of his eyes as he turned away to go to the evidence board. Suddenly more cheerful than he had any right to be, considering they were on the trail of a vicious serial killer, he turned his attention the the phone. "Hey Hotch, I'm here."

"Morgan, I think we may have a lead," he got right to the point, and immediately had Derek's full attention. "It seems like all of the victims here were patrons of the same grooming service. It was hard to track because many of them used cash transactions. Prentis and JJ are on their way now, and I'm going to call Garcia as soon as I am done speaking with you."

"Got it," he said, relieved. "We'll get right on checking on our victims' choice in groomers and see if we get anything. Thanks for the update."

"Of course," he paused. "That's not all I wanted to talk to you about." Derek cringed, anticipating the topic.

"How has Reid been since he arrived? He's - changed - some since you left-" he let his statement trail off, waiting for Morgan to interject. His voice was gruff, but obviously concerned.

"Well, I can't say I'm not surprised," he said quietly, glancing at the subject of the conversation where he stood across the room. He was chewing at his bottom lip, deep in thought, with his arms wrapped securely across his front. It this moment, he was the same, sweet Spencer he remembered, though admittedly, his clothes seemed to have become more flattering. His khaki slacks were fitted in such a way that they clung loosely to his long legs, and hugged his ass. He dragged his gaze up, to where his crisp, white button-up peaked out from under the fitted, navy sweater vest. It was so very Spencer, but much more alluring than he remembered. His eyes continued up to the the folded collar of his shirt, loosely wrapped around the base of his neck. The shorter haircut left the long expanse of his neck open and exposed, and Derek was irresistibly drawn to the sight of the fine hairs curling at the back of his hairline.

Giving his head a brief, discreet shake, he returned his attention to the phone. "He's very - professional."

He heard a quiet sigh. "Morgan, I don't know now what you did,-" Derek tried, unsuccessfully to cut him off. "- and I don't want to know. What I can tell you, is that the team dynamics have been damaged." Morgan could say nothing to this.

"Now, I know I am no longer your supervisor, or superior, but seeing as this happened while you were still under my leadership, I consider myself within my authority to address this. I need you to fix it."

Morgan nodded mutely.

"Do you understand?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I got ya, Hotch."

"Good. Now I have one more matter I would like to mention before I let you go." Steeling himself for whatever else Hotch was going to throw on him, he agreed.

"Since you are now a supervisor, and in a role of leadership, I'm sure you have noticed that there is a lot of unrest right now in the structure of our units. They are looking to restructure the power and try to maximize the effectiveness of the BAU teams."

"Yeah, I have noticed a bit of that," he said, brow furrowed.

"I think this case is going to be the last nail in the coffin, so to speak. It clearly demonstrates the importance of inter-team communication and cooperation."

"That sounds reasonable. But what does that have to do-"

"Morgan, I am being considered for the new position of BAU chief." He was stunned. "This position will basically be the overseer of all the BAU units specifically and act as the go-between for the units themselves, and the rest of the bureau. It would solve a lot of problems. The reason I am telling you all of this, is that if I am chosen for this position, I am planning to accept it-"

"Hotch, you're leaving the field? Naw man, you can't! You are one of the best we've got. I can't see you just spending all your time behind a desk," Derek said vehemently.

"While I would be doing more of the administrative work, I would by no means be leaving the field altogether. I would join units on select cases when I am not otherwise occupied. One of the reasons we are convinced this is going to work well is that with my own extensive experience in leading a unit of this nature, I will be able to help much more than Chief Strauss is currently able to, with an understanding of the work that you do.

"This looks like it's going to go through, and when it does I am going to recommend you to replace me."

A shocked silence followed as Morgan tried to wrap his mind around the newest loop thrown at him. He tried breathing deeply, hoping it would calm his racing heart and mind. He was under no false illusions concerning his will. He didn't know if he would be able to do the right thing thing again, especially when offered such a perfect opportunity to pull Spencer back into his life. He didn't think he had the strength to resist. But he would never be able to forgive himself if he allowed himself to give in to his urges.

Unaware of the turmoil he was just brought about, Hotch continued after a moment. "There is no doubt in my mind that you are the best man for this job, and while it is ultimately your decision, I want you back in Quantico." When the silence continued, he added, "You have time to think it over. While it looks like the change is inevitable, it will not actually be in effect for several weeks at least. I hope you give this opportunity some serious thought."

Finally snapping out of his daze, he quickly responded. "Absolutely sir, I will. Thank you for your recommendation."

Hotch's tone warmed almost imperceptibly. "Of course. Now we need to get back to our current case, I will let you go here. Keep in touch."

"Sounds good, I'll talk to you soon." He hung up the phone, mind still whirling.

Turning and walking to the evidence, he forced his thoughts back onto the task at hand - catching a killer.

"I assume Hotch told you about the lead?"

"Of course," Reid replied distractedly, eyes still fixed on the map. "There don't seem to be any dog groomers centralized to his comfort zone." Derek noticed the paper clutched in his hands, and leaned over to examine it. When Spencer turned to look at him, he couldn't stop a little jump at his closeness. For a moment, he was the awkward and endearing Spencer from two years ago, before he quickly drew himself back behind his mask. Morgan forced himself not to react to the change.

"This is just a list of dog venues and services listed by the city's business directory. I had one of the officers get it for me."

"Good idea," the darker agent said, looking back up to his face. "Anything look promising?"

He glanced back down at the paper, clearing his throat. "Yes actually, there is a dog park that is fairly central to the unsubs activity in this city." He scrambled for one of the felt tipped markers, somehow managing to knock them all off their ledge. Unable to restrain the small chuckle, Derek reached down and returned with the blue marker, and a fond expression on his face. Spencer's face was tinted slightly red and he roughly took the offering and began drawing erratic lines on the map, ending with a and area he circled with several loops. "This dog park has been rated the top in the state for the last five years running, but recently there have been several cases of dog poisonings there. There is a good chance that was also our guy."

"Poisonings?"

"Yes, the perpetrator leaves tainted meat in discreet areas and whichever dog eats it, falls victim. In these particular instances, large doses of rat poison was consistently used."

Derek shook his head, disgusted. "The sick things people get enjoyment out of."

Spencer hummed in agreement before continuing. "I have the office of the park coordinators, so I was planning on heading over there to see if I can find anything."

He gave a brisk nod. "Good idea, I'll come with you."

The younger immediately withdrew. "What? Why?" he exclaimed harshly.

Morgan glared at him in disbelief. He drew himself up and crossed his arms. "This seems to be our best lead at the moment, and as _Unit Chief_, I thought I should be present."

Spencer took in his challenging stance for a moment before clenching his jaw and pivoting. He marched to the chair where he had hung his coat, and swung it on as he sped out of the room. Instantly repentant, Derek leapt forward to follow him, remembering to snag his own jacket.

"Reid," he called, but was ignored. He tried again. "_Reid!_" The other agent was already at the door, and leaving the precinct. Forsaking any image of composure he had been trying to keep, he picked up a quick jog as he followed the other man outside. Reid was almost halfway across the parking lot when he caught up, reaching out to clutch his bicep in desperation.

"_Spencer!_"

This stopped him in his tracks. He whirled on him so fast that Derek almost lost his balance.

"You have no right to call me that," he spat. His face was contorted in an expression of anguish and fury. Derek felt the bottom fall out of his stomach, and was filled with self-loathing. What kind of an ass what he to put that kind of expression on the face of the man he loved?

"Reid, then. Please talk to me. I'm sorry, but I want to make this right."

"Don't bother, _Agent Morgan_. I should thank you; you taught me a lot, after all." Bitterness dripped from his words and he began flailing his arms in small motions to emphasize his speech. In any other situation, it would have been endearing. "After all, I'm a grown man. How naive would I have to be to force my coworkers into the role of a family? I have finally learnt how entirely ridiculous the idea is. I'm not some lonely child, I'm an independent adult, and an FBI agent at that. I obviously needed to stop snivelling and join the real world." With that, he tried to walk away again, but Derek held on fast.

Spencer turned again, surprising Morgan when he got right in his face. "Did you know that there are two types of people who leave me?" Without giving him a chance to respond, he continued, the pitch of his voice rising steadily. "First there are those like my Mother and Gideon. It was never Mom's fault that she wasn't there for me, and she showed me however she could that she loved me. Likewise, Gideon left because he didn't have another choice. I understand his reasons, and though it hurt, I'm not angry with him." His face darkened. "And then there's the second kind. The kind like my _dad_," he spat the word, "who leaves me in the middle of the night without saying goodbye, without offering any kind of reason, and then lives a mile away for the next 10 years without contacting me once." By this time his eyes glistened with tears and he was trembling like a leaf in the wind. "Guess which one you are."

Derek watched in horror as Spencer wrenched his arm free and swiped his sleeve over his face as he began walking briskly away. Before he could realize what he was doing, he shouted after him.

"I had a reason."

Reid stopped and slowly turned to look at him, cheeks slightly wet and a look of distrust on his face.

"Please Reid," he realized that he had gone too far to go back now, and knew he was going to have to come clean. Fear and unease clenched in his gut, but he ignored it and forged on, looking imploringly into Reid's bright eyes. "Please, I did have a reason." His voice softened. "I promise."

"And why should I believe you?" he asked in a wary voice.

"Please," he knew he was begging now, but he couldn't seem to care. "Please, I will tell you everything. But let's do this properly, not in the middle of a parking lot."

Spencer suddenly seemed to realize where they were, and hugged himself in embarrassment, eyes darting down.

"I promise I will tell you _everything_, and you can think whatever you want of me after. But we will wait until we catch this son of a bitch. When we can focus on this, undistracted, I'll take you for a coffee and we will talk." Seeing Spencer consider his words, to sweeten the deal he added, "I will honestly answer any question you have for me." He grimaced inside. He could already see that one coming back to bite him.

Reid appraised him once more before slowly nodding his head. "Okay," he said simply and quietly, turning for the last time to approach their vehicle.

Joy and fear fought inside Derek at what he knew would come, but he couldn't turn back now. All they had to do was catch the unsub.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading, as always XD<br>Please leave me treats below


	6. Chapter 5

Hello my dear readers, I apologize for the long wait! Never fear! Only one more final to go, and then I will be swimming in free time. I've made this one a tad longer, with a touch of M/R to make up for the wait. I hope you are still with me and like it, please enjoy and let me know how I did.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Criminal Minds

* * *

><p>Dr. Harold, the man in charge of the Taffy Dog Park, was a portly gentleman with a full head of thick, snow white hair. He had a fluffy kind of mustache that covered almost his whole mouth and fluttered as he spoke. When Derek and Spencer arrived at the building where he rented his office, he was at the main door to greet them and usher them in.<p>

"I take it you two young men were sent by the FBI to speak with me?" he inquired.

"Yes sir," Morgan stepped forward to shake his hand. "I'm SSA Derek Morgan, and this is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, with the Quantico unit." He glanced quickly at Spencer to gauge his reaction, but his expression seemed oddly guarded. Giving a small shrug, he returned his attention to their host.

"Well my, if you two don't sound impressive," he said earnestly. After pausing a moment, he patted his forehead with an open palm exclaiming, "Now, where are my manners? I am Dr. Julius Harold, pleasure. Let me take us somewhere we can sit and talk."

At the mention of his title, Reid almost jumped on the poor man, bombarding him with questions about his doctorate. Apparently the man had a Phd in Architecture and was recently retired. Derek trailed behind the pair, taking the opportunity to admire Spencer's fine . . . conversational skills. The air around atmosphere between them seemed tentatively more positive. While the drive there had been quiet, it was not altogether uncomfortable. In fact, he was grateful. It allowed him a much needed opportunity to wrap his head around what he had just promised Spencer.

The building had to be at least fifty years old, and while it was well maintained, did not have a working elevator. Derek felt thoroughly sorry for the elderly man by the time they reached the fourth floor. Out of breath, Dr. Harold gestured for them to follow him as he maneuvered his way into an incredibly cluttered little office. More like a closet, really. The man sidestepped behind his little desk and sat heavily in the plush, leather office chair, the room's only redeeming feature. One small wall housed a bookcase that reached to the ceiling, full to capacity. There was a stack of large boxes in the corner, topped with a stack of old newspapers, envelopes and empty water bottles. Almost every inch of the visible walls was used to showcase ribbons and plaques. There were also framed photos of an obviously younger Harold and huge spotted Great Dane dog that stood with his head to the height of his owner's chest.

"Impressive dog," Morgan commented, nodding toward the most prominent photo as he discreetly gestured for Spencer to take the one available seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw the younger agent hesitate briefly before taking it. He felt his professional smile grow into something more genuine at even such a small acceptance.

At the mention of his dog, the elderly man glowed with pride. He swept his arms around the room in a grand gesture. "Everything you see here was won by my Zeus. The most gifted dog I have ever worked with!"

"Worked with?" Spencer inquired curiously, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped lightly in front of him.

"Yes, I used to train dogs as a hobby; obedience in particular. Each dog I trained got their Utility Dog title at least, but Zeus was exceptional. He achieved his Champion title shortly after turning four years old!" The man beamed. "He's twelve years old now, but still young at heart."

"Sounds like a great dog. I myself have a Bernese Mountain Dog cross. Got him from a shelter about seven years ago."

"Having a dog around the house is good for the soul," he said warmly. "You know, I actually trained the dog that this park is named after. A little Boston Terrier named Taffy."

"Why was the park named after this dog?" Morgan asked, settling in to lean his should carefully against the overflowing bookshelf, arms crossed.

"Well, his owner donated the money for it. It was only because of her donation that we were able to open this park at all. It was the least we could do to return her kindness. Her name is Martha Allen. She's a fixture in the dog world on this side of the country." The two agents shared a brief glance here, considering an angle they hadn't thought of before.

"It's quite sad, really," he continued, his face seeming to droop.

"What's sad?" Reid pressed him.

"Well, Taffy died of cancer recently, within the last month I guess. She is devastated, as I'm sure you can imagine. We set up a small memorial for her in the park. It was the only way we knew that we could support her in her grief."

"Could you tell us more about Ms. Allan?"

The elder doctor paused. "Surely you don't supect-"

"Of course not, Sir," Morgan interrupted him. "But we must consider that the man we are looking for may have some relationship with her, since the killings seem to have begun around the time her dog died."

"I see," he conceded, shaking his head wearily. "Such a tragedy. I'll help you in any way I am able."

"Thank you, Dr. Harold," Spencer said warmly. "So about Ms. Allan?" he gently prompted.

"Ah, yes. Martha lives somewhere in New Jersey, I believe. She has been breeding Boston Terriers for around 20 years, and working as a professional groomer for at least as long. She attends dog shows with her best animals all over the Eastern states. I seem to remember she used to bring her son to the competitions. Real pale, sickly looking boy, but with a face covered in freckles and the reddest, curliest hair you ever saw. He would help her out with her dogs, but he never really spoke much.

"She's an incredibly strong woman, you know. Her husband left her for younger, more wealthy woman when their son was only three years old. She built her entire business alone from that point while raising a child. And so generous on top of it all."

"Have you spoken with her recently?" the younger doctor asked.

"Well, no. Not in a few months, at least, at the last dog show we held here. I heard about poor Taffy from an AKC newsletter."

"One more question," Derek said, pondering this new information. "Has anything seemed strange around your park in the last month, particularly since the poisonings began? Has anyone noticed anything unusual?"

The elderly man furrowed his brow, thoughtfully. "You know, now that you mention it, I've heard a few of our patrons mention a well-dressed man walking the park without a dog. He never behaved suspiciously, he was only noticed because it is not usual for us to see a dogless, dressed up businessman around the park, not to mention repeatedly."

By this time, Reid was sitting straighter in his chair, at attention. "Do you think you could give us any more of a description?"

"Well," the older doctor began, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I expect he is somewhat striking to look at. Several ladies seem to be quite fascinated by him, though they have only seen him from afar," he admitted in a stage whisper, causing Spencer's mouth to tip up and hint at a smile. Speaking normally again, he added, "But from the descriptions I have heard, I would guess him to stand at about 6'1, probably in his mid twenties. Average weight and build. I'm afraid I don't know any more than that."

"Thank you, Dr. Harold, you have been incredibly helpful," Derek said, stepping forward to shake the man's hand. "Here is my card, please call if you think of anything else that may be helpful."

"I surely will, sir. It was a great pleasure to meet both of you."

"Likewise," Spencer said warmly, but still stood back and gave his little wave instead of a handshake.

The two agents began their journey back down the stairs, after insisting their host allow them to show themselves out to save him the trip. All awkwardness and hesitance was lost as their passion for their job took over, bringing out the dynamic that had allowed them to work as an exceptional team in the past.

"We've got to call Hotch," Reid said excitedly, forgetting his new attachment to professional titles. "If the man who has been poisoning the dogs is our unsub, it is highly probable that the death of Ms. Allan's dog was the stressor! And he said that she lives in New Jersey! This could be the link we were missing!" He turned to look at Morgan as he spoke, hands gesturing wildly, as they made their way down the final stairwell. "But still, why travel between cit-"

He was suddenly cut off as his foot missed its next step, only clipping its edge and sending him reeling. An undignified squawk escaped his lips, his foot shooting forward to skip down the next two steps and his arms pinwheeling. Just before his momentum could send him tumbling down to the landing, Derek's hand shot out to haul him back up by his elbow. He released the genius's arm as soon he was upright again, curling his arm around the younger man's waist to steady him.

"Whoa man, take it easy," he murmured, trying to calm his racing heart, and wasn't helped by the sudden proximity of his paramour. He could feel Reid trembling slightly from the adrenaline rush, and he tightened his grip momentarily before releasing him. They both froze when Spencer turned his head and they found their faces only inches apart. As cliche as he knew this was, time seemed to slow to a crawl as their eyes locked for a long moment. Derek tried to keep his breathing calm, but it proved impossible when he found himself inhaling Spencer's breath. The heady smell had him unconsciously rolling his eyes back and closed, unintentionally breaking the moment. When he opened his eyes again, his friend was lightly clearing his throat, eyes locked on his feet in front of him as he continued down the staircase.

"You're right," he continued their previous conversation as he followed his partner. "This still doesn't explain why he travels between these two cities."

Reunited with his train of thought, the younger agent leapt on the opportunity to fill the silence. "Yes, exactly. There has to be some extreme significance to both cities for him to put in so much effort. It doesn't make sense, because if Ms. Allan is his target, killing in her home state would be considered more evolved than in another state. He is closer to her, the object of his rage. It is completely erratic for him to then devolve to attacking elsewhere again, and then return to his evolved behavior. He may be an extreme case of bipolar disorder."

Reaching the vehicle, they both climbed in and Derek turned over the engine, pulling out of the parking lot. "That seems feasible."

"Or it could be. . ." Spencer trailed off. "Never mind."

"What?" Derek asked, glancing at him before returning his eyes to the road.

"No, you'll just laugh at me," he grumbled.

"Oh come on, now I have to know. I won't laugh," Derek promised, curiosity burning.

Spencer stared at him for a moment, apparently evaluating whether or not the man could be trusted.

"Please, pretty boy?" Derek begged, taking a big risk by pulling out one of his favorite and most accurate names for the young genius.

Spencer seemed to bristle momentarily, before forcing himself to relax at the sincerity in his voice. He fidgeted in his seat for a few blocks, staring at his hands clasped in his lap. He took a deep breath, and began in a rushed mumble, "TheUnsubcouldactuallybemore-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," Derek interrupted, unable to make out the words.

Spencer took another deep breath and hardened his resolve. "The Unsub could, in fact, be Unsubs, more particularly twins that share the same DNA, killing in different cities at the same time, which although highly improbable on many fronts, is possible and would explain a lot of the inconsistencies we have been seeing, such as the difference in the methods used in the signature and the difference in hunting grounds, and as improbable as it may seem I think we should at least consider the possibility." He gasped for air after stringing so many sentences together without fitting in a breath.

There was a long empty silence; Derek trying to hold in laughter, and Spencer anxiously anticipating ridicule. Finally, Derek managed to speak.

"Are you serious Reid? I remember you floating that theory way back in that Angel Maker case." He turned to gauge the doctor's reaction.

Spencer didn't disappoint, wheeling almost fully sideways in his seat to glare at Morgan in annoyance. "If I remember correctly, it was you who insisted I learn to 'think outside the box'. Meaning that 'when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'," he declared defiantly.

Derek chuckled. "My bad, kid. I'll make sure we exhaust all the possibilities."

"Be sure you do," Spencer muttered, sated for the time being. He pulled out his phone and held it to his ear after hitting a speed dial number.

"Hey, Hotch. Just wanted to give you an update." Reid paused, listening to his supervisor, who's voice Derek could barely make out over the line. "Wait, really?" Pause. "You're kidding!"

Morgan's attention was drawn by the younger man's surprised exclamation.

"Yeah. . . No, we'll be back at the station in fifteen minutes. . . Sure. I' ll call ahead and get them to prepare. . . Ok, talk to you in a bit." He hung up and looked up, wide-eyed, at Derek, who was waiting expectantly.

"We've got to call the station and get them to set up for a video conference in our meeting room. Hotch thinks they've caught the Unsub."

* * *

><p>Well, I do hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for reading, I'll have another update up soon!<br>vv review vv


End file.
